One beautiful afternoon last week, I suddenly
found that I couldn't bear being inside for another moment.
I grabbed a hat and headed out to the back yard. It's a mess
out there; we've been renovating our old garage for months
(we joke that the only thing keeping it together is the termites
holding hands) and half of its contents - along with thistles
and weeds - have overtaken our back yard. An orderly person,
I was beginning to feel desperate and panicky every time I
walked out the back door. So while I was outside I decided
to tackle the mess. I started pulling weeds, and within an
hour I'd filled three trash cans and was sweating, tired,
and completely happy.
Whenever I spend time up to my knuckles in dirt
it's as though part of me has come home. I'm the daughter
of a Capricorn farmer who was blissfully happy spending hot,
humid summer afternoons in absolute solitude, meditatively
traversing his acres aboard a tractor. But even in the early
1960s small farms were struggling, so he also drove our school
bus - "to support his farming habit," my mom liked
to say. He did whatever he had to do to make a go of his
farming while supporting his family, working long hours
and odd jobs. He even tried to make farmers of my reluctant
brothers, who made it clear they had other plans for their
futures.
I know many astrologers, artists, writers, and
metaphysical practitioners, myself included, can relate to
this idea of supporting our vocational "habits"
with other sources of income. We devote long hours and much
love to our work, usually for little money compared to what
we might earn in a regular job. Many years after becoming
a professional astrologer, much of my earnings still come
from side enterprises such as my web design business. If someone
asks me what I do for a living, though, I always answer that
I'm an astrologer - because regardless of how much I earn
from that work, that's how I think of myself.
I suppose this stubborn determination to support
my astrology habit is a legacy from my father. In his quiet
way, Dad demonstrated that dedication to the work you love
- and not how you earn your money - is what defines your vocation
and makes you a success. Reading a recent installment of Cary
Tennis' advice column at Salon.com reminded me of this. A
reader wrote in to complain that after many years of struggling
to make a living as a musician, his art still didn't support
him financially. Cary reminded him that earning money from
other sources wouldn't make him any less a musician. "Maybe,"
Tennis wrote, "it's time for you to support your art
for awhile." And as my dad demonstrated, that's true
- sometimes, we have to be good fathers to our work and support
our vocations, rather than the other way around.
This month's Full Moon chart features Venus,
goddess of money and relationships, almost exactly opposed
idealistic Neptune and nearing a conjunction with Saturn.
If you've been struggling financially, or feeling like a failure
because the work you love doesn't pay enough, it may be time
to let go of illusions and take a more realistic view of money's
role in your vocational happiness. Take a closer look, too,
at your relationships. The dark side of Capricorn's tenacity
is a certain ruthless singlemindedness, and our bonds
with others often suffer when we give too much to our work,
sacrificing the soft, Cancerian shapes of domestic pleasure.
With Venus opposed Neptune and conjunct Saturn, we have the
opportunity to recognize which of our relationships were built
on shifting, sandy soil and to embrace those that were founded
on enduring bedrock.
When the Sun is moving through tender Cancer,
we grow nostalgic for childhood summers, ice cream trucks,
and the safety of our mother's protective embrace. But it's
all too easy to stay nestled in her arms for too long instead
of venturing out of your shell and tackling the world. At
some point, Cancer's baby must leave the tidepool and learn
to fend for herself. Teaching us how to take care of ourselves
was dad's job, and the Capricorn Full Moon reveals how well
those lessons were learned. Dad may have been loving,
cruel, or absent; successful or a failure. But his example
undoubtedly informed your values and visions about your place
in the world.
Perhaps like my back yard, your vocational garden
has been overrun with a chaotic tangle of weeds, or maybe
you've been tending the wrong garden altogether. At this Capricorn
Full Moon, it's time to nurture your ambitions just
as you nurture your pets, plants, and loved ones. Let us be
thankful for the gifts of our Capricornian fathers and honor
them by claiming our true vocations and defining our personal
visions of success. Let us be frugal stewards of the earth's
bounty and steady friends and lovers upon whom others can
rely. And let us tend our gardens well - pulling weeds, clearing
away what isn't needed, and being willing to get our hands
dirty.
